Dragon Age: The Red Warden
by John Lander
Summary: In the kingdom of Pedgite an evil is stirring, as a young noble named Jayden seeks a life of adventure, he and his friends are dragged into an adventure which holds the fate of their homes and their lives in the balance.


Chapter one: The Gathering Storm

Jayden sat on the bench opposite the Chantry altar. He was filled with annoyance as well as sadness as he lowered his head before the statue of Andraste. He wore a dark red silk tunic with long sleeves and dark orange trousers. Light brown shoes were on his feet. His brown hair was short and wavy. He had been running his hand in his stress. He's received some bad news earlier in the day. Jayden was eighteen years old yet he was more solemn than many young men his age. The pressures of being a noble's son would do that to any man.

The chapel he was in was presently empty. The room was mostly dark. The only sources of light came from the candles on the dais and the everlasting flame on the altar stood directly in front of the statue of the Maker's prophet-bride. The door to the chapel opened. Jayden looked toward the disturbance and saw a familiar face enter.

Standing in the doorway, carrying a number of scrolls beneath his arm, was a young man only a month younger than Jayden. He wore the robes of a Chantry priest. His hair was black and cut short. His eyes were a light grey that almost looked silver in the correct lighting, a feature many people had commented on in the past.

As he entered the room, he noticed Jayden and asked, "Milord? Why are sitting alone in the dark?" His voice was calm and soothing, much like many priests of his order were.

Jayden looked up then focused on the priest. "Bastion, no one else is here. You can relax." Jayden's voice was filled with bitterness. He was usually a man of a fun loving and kind personality, but he wasn't himself. He leaned back on the bench and stretched out his legs. Looking at Bastion with eyes filled with sorrow, he continued. "I received some bad news today."

"Which was?" Bastion asked.

Jayden looked away. "I'll be married on this day next month."

Bastion was somewhat surprised. "Who exactly are you going to marry?"

Jayden turned towards Bastion once more. "I must marry Lusinda, the eldest daughter of Arl Buxton. My father arranged it with the Arl and said it was my duty to maintain strong relations with the Arling of North-Point."

"Well, you will be Teyrn of Greenstone one day." Bastion stated. "Seems understandable that your father would want you to marry one of your family's most loyal and powerful allies."

Jayden stood up in frustration. He began to pace from one side of the altar to the other with his arms crossed behind his back. The young noble looked down at the floor as he spoke. "I find it so frustrating! I am noble yet my life is not within my control. I'm not even twenty years old and already the next sixty years have been planned by my father! He didn't even consult me on the matter! I find it irritating."

"Jayden- you knew this would happen. Ever since you were a child, you knew that there would be both privileges and responsibilities as a noble."

The nobleman stopped and turned towards the young priest. "Damn you, Bastion! Must you always be so logical? You are my only true friend. Couldn't you just comfort me in this time of woe?"

Bastion moved to the altar and gently dusted the edges with his fingertips. "Not many people consider a wedding a time of woe."

Jayden continued to pace. "I know that, but it's exasperating. I don't want to sit in court and hear endless petitions about the needs of selfish lords. I want to be out there! I want to see the world and go on adventures. Just like…"

"The Black Fox." Bastion interrupted with a smirk. "You've told me multiple times about how you long to be an adventurer. A life you may sadly never have and even if you did, where would you go and what would you do?"

"Simple. I would be a mercenary." Jayden replied. "I have the skills with both combat and the resources to do so."

"But the Teyrn would never allow you to live such a life."

Jayden approached Bastion and placed his hands on the priest's shoulders. "Well…I am going to escape."

Bastion met his friend's gaze. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that I'm going to run away. Just think- by this time tomorrow, I could become a very wealthy sellsword and do what I wish when I wish…"

Bastion walked away from Jayden and to the slightly ajar chapel door. He pushed it closed in case someone walking past would hear what the two of them were saying. Bastion then turned to face Jayden. "What you are saying is crazy! You cannot simply run away from Greenstone. You're going to be one of the two most powerful nobles in Pedgite and you wish to simply run away into a life of ill repute. Why?"

"I would not be living like a Chasind wildling! I will be living in taverns and tents... most of the time anyway."

"And how exactly are you going to pay for this lifestyle you wish to live?"

"I've saved up one hundred sovereigns over the past few months. That amount of money would allow me to set up a mercenary company and allow me to hire men to join my group. Then it would go from there."

Bastion shook his head in disapproval. "Your childish dreams of glory will be your undoing."

Jayden took hold of Bastion by his arms and said, "How do you know? This could be the greatest choice I have ever made and I wanted to share it with you. You could come with me."

Bastion pulled away in horror. "What are you saying? I cannot simply abandon my duties to the Maker at your command. I am a Lay-Brother of the Chantry. I have pledged to serve the Maker in anyway that I can and do what he asks of me."

"A Lay-Brother is not an official member of the order." Jayden pointed out. "As a matter of fact, you are a 'house guest' of the Chantry. You are free to leave their service whenever you wish and you know it."

Bastion turned to face the statue of Andraste watching them in the dark. "If I leave, I have nowhere else to go. The Chantry took me in and gave me everything I could ever need."

"What about me?" Jayden asked. "You've been my closest friend for over nine years. Those years with you were the greatest I've ever had and I would not trade them for all of the adventures in the world. I only ask you to join me because you have enriched my life to such a degree that I want to repay you in any way that I can."

A moment of silence passed. Bastion said nothing as he continued to look up at toward the statue. The moment of confessions ended as Jayden walked away in his disappointment. Before he opened the door, Jayden looked back toward his friend and said, "I will be leaving in an hour or two. If you decide to change your mind, meet me here in the Chapel. If you do not come to the chapel by that time, then, I bid you farewell old friend."

Jayden pulled the door open and before walking through it, took one last look at his friend. With sorrowful eyes, he left.

The sun rested high in the sky while beams of light shone upon the land of Pedgite. A mile or two outside of the capital city of Celic lay a crossroads which split the trade routes both north and south. At this crossroads stood two men reading a map of Pedgite; both were human; however, neither was like the other. The boy on the right was fifteen years of age and only four feet tall. His youthful appearance belied a shyness that only took form when a large number of people were close at hand. He wore light blue robes and carried a wooden staff. The robes represented his rank of apprentice within the Circle of Magi and his staff had been crudely crafted from a wooden tree. His hair was short and combed, something he took great pride in maintaining.

The second young man wore the armor of a Templar recruit. The light silver metal was both beautiful and sturdy in protecting him from attacks. He was six feet in height which would normally intimidate others, but his fellow traveler had grown accustomed to him. Unlike the young mage, his skin was tanned indicating he came from another land. His hair was braided tightly and tied in a knot at the back of his head. He looked at the map of Pedgite he held in his hand while repeatedly switching his gaze between the map and the sign post that stood before him. In a fit of anger, he threw the map to the ground.

"By the Maker!" the Templar cried. "Why did this have to happen?"

Anger was in his voice yet it passed after a moment or two. He slipped into a calmness before reaching down to pick up the map and dust it off.

"Don't worry, Tywin." the boy said with a grin. "We could be under attack by bandits."

The boy's voice came out nearly a squeak. It wasn't high enough to be feminine sounding but it certainly was different enough to allow others to single him out. He approached Tywin and looked at the map with him. "So, where are we exactly?"

"We are not where we are supposed to be, Syrus." Tywin said, "That is for damn sure!"

"You are taking this rather personally."

"If we do not rejoin the group as soon as possible, the Knight-Commander will have my head before Revered Mother does."

Syrus took a look at the sign post then back at the map. He focused on the scrap of velium and tried to figure out where they were. He knew that the group they were in had left Celic along the same road, but they had been separated long before they reached the crossroads. Now only two choices could be made: they could either take the road to the north which would lead them past the Northern forest or they could go south and journey through South Shore. They could only pick one route, however, and hope they caught up with the group eventually. This was a choice that both of them had to be in agreement with.

"What do you think?" Syrus asked, his eyebrows coming together in thought.

Tywin exhaled deeply before speaking. "Well- in Rivain there is a way we could settle this." The young Templar reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin. "Ok- heads for the north and tails for the south. What do you say?"

Syrus nodded his agreement. "Alright."

Tywin flicked the silver coin up into the air. The pair watched the coin reflect the sunlight as it hovered for a brief moment before it fell and landed on the ground. Seeing the result, the two now knew which route to take.

Jayden walked down the street towards the chapel. This time he had on a full suit of armor. On his hands he wore leather gloves with four-in-one mail affixed to the outside for better protection. On his feet were a pair of leather boots to which mail interconnected in the same pattern. Both the boots and gloves provided protection and enabled him to move faster in combat. On his body was a chain shirt and chausses with leather added to some joints for extra stability. The armor had a dark red tint on the metal plating, something that the young noble had asked for personally since red was his favorite color. On his left side rested his long sword, a blade as sharp as the day it was first wielded by Riker Brent in the service of King Tristan the Unifier, the king who had united all of Pedgite almost a thousand years before. The sword had a golden hilt and carved into the handle was the crest of the Brent Family: a White Stag standing up on its hind legs against a green background.

A kite shield with the heraldry of the Brent family was firmly strapped to his left arm. On his back was a large sack that contained all of the items and supplies he would need for the journey ahead. As he came to the front door of the chapel, Jayden paused and thought to himself. He wondered if his oldest friend stood waiting for him inside. Would Bastion come with him or would he find an empty room? As he stood there, Jayden realized there was only one thing to do. He knew that the only way to end the doubt would be to simply go inside and see for himself. Pushing the door open the young noble walked into the chapel only to feel his heart sink. The chapel was empty and there were no signs that anyone had been in there since he met with Bastion earlier.

Jayden tried to hold back a single tear that almost rolled down his cheek before he dabbed it away with his hand. Jayden turned and just moments after he re-entered the corridor, the sight of a familiar face cleared away his sorrow and replaced it with shimmering joy.

Standing by the doorway was Bastion. Instead of wearing the robes of the Chantry, he had on a light suit of armour. It was made of faded brown leather, a light material favored by those who wished to move fast in combat and over land. A large strap across his chest held a single dagger in place, a small weapon with a grey iron hilt and a razor-sharp blade. Seeing his friend in the doorway waiting brought Jayden a great sense of joy, for he knew that Bastion was willing to travel with him.

"I knew you would come." Jayden said with a heart filled with joy.

"Let me make one thing clear," Bastion replied, "I am going with you for two reasons. First, you are the sole heir to the Teyrnir of Greenstone and I want to keep you safe. Second, you are my greatest friend and I have no desire to see you meet your end with a dagger to the heart in some foreign land."

Jayden looked into Bastion's eyes. He could see that although the Chantry brother didn't fully approve of his friend's actions, he did, however, wish to protect him no matter what. Jayden reached out his hand toward Bastion. "Whatever happens, I'll be glad that you came with me."

Bastion took hold of Jayden's hand with a firm grip. In a joking tone, he said, "Just try not to die you daft bastard."

The two then broke out into a bout of amused laughter. Their friendship was strong enough for them to jokingly call each other names and not be offended.

The tavern was filled with many men and women, all of whom were talking loudly to each other and enjoying their drinks. The smell of ale and burning timber filled the room with a strong stench. This was a common feature with many taverns so not many people seem to mind. Sitting at table in the far corner of the room by a window was a dwarf. He wore handmade armor. Every ring of the six-in-one mail lay perfectly and every plate was flawlessly smooth. The armor had a tint of faded purple across the main chest plate, gloves and boots. Over his shoulders he had on a dark brown cloak with a hood over his head that hid his identity. This appearance gave the impression to the other people in the tavern that he didn't want to be bothered. Hanging from his belt was a dwarven axe with a recently sharpened edge and a highly detailed handle. It was obvious to anyone who saw it that the weapon was not made by humans or elves.

This lonely figure sat at the table with a plate of food in front of him and a mug of ale in his hand. With the fork held in his right hand, the hooded figure simply poked at the meat. It wasn't hard enough for the tips to pierce through yet it was hard enough to leave a mark. This action seemed to be brought on by a lack of focus on the real world. The stranger seemed to be fixated on a memory of his past.

"Need anything else, milord?" a voice asked.

The dwarf snapped out of his reminiscing. He looked towards the other side of the table to see a tavern wench standing and waiting. She wore a brown flannel dress with a grey apron over the top of it. In her hand was a wooden tray that had four iron tankards filled to the brim with ale upon it.

"No," the dwarf replied. "I am fine. Thank you."

His tone of voice was deep yet calm. It was stern but lacked the sense of bitterness many surface dwarves had. His eyes were a light blue. They were the same shade of lyrium that could be mined from Orzammar's caves. From beneath the rim of his hood, a strand of hair poked out through the side. It was a shade of light orange which was stronger than any shade of that hair colour. A small scar rested upon his cheek in a diagonal line from the corner of his eye and half way down his cheek. Such a mark could be inflicted by a swift swing of a long sword cutting through his skin faster than a heartbeat. Although the wound had healed, the scar remained and it was something the dwarf did nothing to hide for he wore it as a mark of pride.

The tavern wench nodded as a sign of understanding before slowly walking past people while trying not to spill the drinks she held. The dwarf went back to prodding his meal. Doing so caused his mind to go back to remembering. He remembered his first command in the Orzammar army. His first mission was to retake an outpost overrun by Darkspawn a few days earlier. It seemed to be an easy task yet he didn't care. After debating with his fellow officers, he gave the order to charge. While charging straight into the outpost, everything had seemed safe. However, that changed the moment the last soldier stepped through the main entrance. The darkspawn revealed themselves. They poured out of the nearby buildings and made their way directly toward the dwarves. They broke their lines instantly and began to slaughter them. After the order to retreat was given, the remaining soldiers fled back into the Deep Roads toward Orzammar. Out of the forty men sent to reclaim the outpost only five had survived. He had lost many things: his honour, the respect of his family and his place among the honoured ancestors.

"Is this seat taken?" a voice asked of him.

The dwarf looked up. He saw a young man by the age of nineteen standing on the other side of the table. His hair was as black as a starless night and his eyes were a bright green. His face was pale. It was almost like the colour of milk yet had a small tinge of pink in his cheeks. He wore a grey robe with a brown leather belt around his waist and in his hand he held a tall wooden staff. The wood it was made from looked withered like a tree branch with a curved top in the shape of a claw.

"No," the dwarf replied. "But do you really want to sit at this table?"

"You look like a man who might have an interesting story to tell." The stranger pulled out a chair at the table then sat down in it. As he looked towards the dwarf, he rested his staff against the table before leaning in and interlocking his fingers. "So- what brought you to Pedgite?"

The dwarf put his fork down before leaning back in his chair. "What makes you think I'm not from here?"

"Many things," the stranger replied. "The first is that you are a dwarf. Not many of your kind choose to venture this far from Orzammar or Kal-Sharok. Another factor is it's as if you're trying to hide from someone. Wearing a hood and cloak... it's almost like you want people to know that you are trying to hide from others. I only have one question so far. Do you have a name?"

The dwarf looked at him with intrigue and some curiosity regarding his skills of investigation. He decided to play along. "Chumley, formally known as Chumley of House Tranador of Orzammar."

The stranger held out a hand towards Chumley. "Lovis, pleasure to meet you."

Chumley extended his hand outward and took hold of Lovis's before shaking it. Chumley then took a quick look at Lovis's staff. Something about it seemed a little off. The idea that a wanderer had a staff was not strange yet this traveler seemed to have a great deal of knowledge as well as a gentle sounding voice. Chumley began to think before asking, "So, tell me about yourself. What makes you want to travel?"

"Oh," Lovis replied, "Personal reasons among other things."

"Surely you're not being hunted by anyone?"

Lovis released a nervous laugh which he quickly hid with a cheery smile. "What would make you think that?"

Chumley took hold of his tankard, delighted in a small sip of the ale then placed it back on the table before continuing. "A big give away is that staff of yours. I don't know if you understand but it makes you stick out from others. Normally people traveling long distances carry sticks for helping them travel over hills, yet, they are not as large as yours nor do they closely resemble a mage's staff. Another is your voice. You don't speak with the voice of a commoner and yet you try to dress like one. This image is shattered when you speak. So, I ask you this, are you being hunted?"

Lovis leaned in closer. "Are you asking me…"

"If you are an apostate," Chumley interrupted. "Yes, I am."

Lovis gave him a blank look. He did not wish to give anything away so he did the only thing he could do and looked away. He leaned back in his chair before glancing at Chumley again and replying. "…I might be, but what is it to you? You are a dwarf. It is a known fact that all dwarves are immune to the effects of magic therefore you have no need to fear such a being."

"Oh, I'm not afraid if you are a mage." Chumley replied. "Yet, I know for a fact that if other people in here knew they would either back away or start throwing things at you. Fear not, I have no intention of running away and alerting the templars to where you are and what you look like. I personally have nothing against your kind, but be warned, not many like the idea of a person with the power to summon demons into this world."

Lovis sat there completely surprised by what he had heard. He'd been successfully recognized by someone whom he had just met and the dwarf had even felt sympathetic to his cause. Lovis went on to scratch his chin. "You know, you are probably the most interesting person I have met on my travels. So far that is."

The gate to the stables opened. Both Jayden and Bastion quietly sneaked through and then closed it behind them. Inside the stables were six horses and not a stable hand could be seen. Three of the horses were a light brown while another two were black and the sixth seemed to be a faded shade of blond. Jayden made his way over to a long wooden beam where the riding saddles rested. He took a hold of two of them, one in each hand, before returning to Bastion and holding out one toward him.

"You want to steal your father's horses?" Bastion asked in shock.

Jayden rolled his eyes. "If you have any other ideas, I will gladly consider them."

Jayden dropped a saddle on the ground before Bastion before continuing towards one of the horses where he placed the second saddle upon its back. As he began tightening the straps, Jayden's mind began to wander. He pictured himself traveling Thedas and even going as far as places such as Antiva, Orlais, Rivain and the Anderfels. Simply the idea of leaving the confines of Greenstone brought great happiness to his spirit. Jayden had always dreamed of seeing the world but his father had never let him leave the family home. Quickly and carefully, Jayden finished putting the saddle in place before turning back towards Bastion. He noticed that his friend had wasted no time. He had already chosen a horse and had begun to attached his saddle to its back.

"One question if I may ask," Bastion said. "Where are we going exactly?"

Jayden lead his horse out of its stall. "There is a small village to the east of here. It's just before the crossroads beside the forest. We can sell the horses once we get there and then look for work on the Chanter's board. They always need something done so I thought that could be a great place to start."

Bastion finished tightening the saddle straps on his horse before getting ready to climb on top. He placed his left foot into the loop before pulling himself up with all his strength. When he was in place, he slipped his right foot into the other loop. Jayden climbed up onto his horse and took a firm grip on the reins of his mount. The tension that ran through him was overwhelming and he could barely contain his excitement at what could possibly happen in the days to come. As the young noble pulled on the reins, the beast began to move. In that moment, an idea came into Jayden's mind on what to do, yet, he had no idea if it would be a good idea to do it and he worried that his plan could cause serious harm to his horse. Bastion noticed a certain glint in his friend's eye and he had seen it before. He always saw it when Jayden thought of a rather insane idea that would be outrageous and possibly dangerous.

With a quick whip of his reins, Jayden's horse began to bolt forward. It galloped as fast as it could toward the light wooden door with no indication that it was going to stop. With astonishing force and speed, the animal burst through the wooden gate faster than the wings of a bird. Bastion followed behind his friend at the same speed. The two emerged from the stables and into the castle courtyard where there was no one to be seen. The gates to the castle were wide open allowing the two to escape unhindered. They charged through the courtyard and directly out through the main castle gates. Both Jayden and Bastion galloped away from Castle Brent at great speed. The two horses left a trail of upturned dirt behind them. Jayden did not feel the need to look back for his future was like the road before him. It appeared to stretch off into the distance and he seemed uncertain where it might lead him.

The wind blew against his face with great force as if he was almost riding against the currents of a powerful storm. The feeling did not deter him from his goal. He would arrive at his destination with his close friend trailing behind him.

She ran through the forest quickly and carefully dodging tree branches while looking back every so often. Her long white dress was stained with spilled wine that dripped across her upper body. A blood stain was evident on her cheek yet she had no open wounds on her body to indicate the blood was her own. The young woman had long golden hair with a light red tint to it. Her ears were pointed showing that she was not a human but an elf.

In her hand she carried a sword which she used to cut through the undergrowth. It was nothing like human swords. The blade curved and had the markings of a Dalish smith. The actual blade itself was stained in blood from the tip all the way down to the hilt. Whomever this young elf seemed to be it was obvious she'd been in some horrible battle or had survived a terrible massacre. She continued running as fast as she could. Her mind had gone blank and all she could think of was running as fast as she could while cutting down whatever got in her way.

"How much further?" Syrus asked.

"We will arrive soon," Tywin replied. "Besides, that blasted coin was the one that decided we go north."

The two humans walked along the road. It was clear of any other travelers or signs of wild life. During the walk from the crossroads, the young templar had had his hand upon his sword the entire time. He didn't know what to expect during their travels but he was ready to do battle if the need arose. Tywin watched with great vigilance. His eyes remained focused on the horizon while occasionally taking quick glances at the sides of the road to ensure nothing would surprise him.

Syrus glanced at his friend with some concern. "Must you be so grim?"

Tywin did not break his focus when he replied. "The roads are dangerous, my friend. Who knows what we could encounter. We are more likely to be robbed out here than we were in Celic. There are no patrols on these trade routes."

"Are you saying we could be killed out here?"

"No one would even know if the bandits or highwaymen hid the bodies."

As the two continued to walk, a sudden rustling sound came from the woods. Tywin stopped and quickly drew his sword. Syrus mimicked the templars' reaction and pointed his staff outward in a defensive stance. They stood back to back to ensure they were not caught unprepared. The rustling quickly grew louder and louder. As the noise grew closer with every second, the tension that gripped them both became unbearable. From out of the foliage, running directly at the two men, was a female elf wearing a white dress and wielding a sword. Both were covered in blood. As she emerged onto the road, the elf looked at them. Her eyes were a sparkling blue yet she had dried blood stains splattered across her cheeks. The hand that clenched the sword started to shake although she had lowered the weapon. She was in deep shock and didn't seem to be willing to do battle. Her heavy breathing was the only noise that could be heard. Tywin and Syrus looked at each for a brief moment before looking back toward the blood soaked elf.

"Well," Tywin said, "This was unexpected."

Syrus looked at the elf directly in her eyes. He could see that she was in distress and he knew about suffering all too well. A moment later, the young mage took slow steps towards her. He was not sure what would happen but he knew that if he could help her in any way then he should try and comfort her. He lowered his staff and raised his free hand as sign of good faith. Syrus continued to look directly into her eyes with the hope that he could keep her calm. The mage and the elf did not break eye contact. He wanted to ensure that the situation would not escalate into violence in any shape or form.

"Syrus," Tywin said. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to help someone." Syrus replied.

When the young mage came close enough, he remained outwardly calm although he could feel his heart racing. Syrus did not let it show or let the fear coursing through him take control.

"Hello there," Syrus said while looking at the elf. "My name is Syrus. What is yours?"

The elf did not speak. She simply looked at Syrus while still breathing heavily. It took what felt like an eternity, but she loosened her grip on the sword in her hand and let it fall to the ground.

"Windbow," she finally said. "My name is Alexis Windbow."

Tywin seemed to be confused. "Correct me if I am wrong, but Alexis is a human name, is it not?"

The elf didn't answer his question. She broke eye contact with Syrus before falling to her knees and breaking into a fit of tears. Syrus looked back to Tywin. "What should we do?"

"Keep on walking before she decides to run us through." Tywin replied in a bitter tone.

"How can you say that?" Syrus snapped with disapproval. "We cannot leave her like this. We should do something. Maybe we can take her with us and when we get to a village, we can purchase her a spare change of clothes."

Tywin was completely surprised by what Syrus had suggested. "Are you thinking straight? By the Maker! Walking into a village is one thing. Walking into a village with an elf covered in blood and wielding a blood soaked sword is something else completely. If the guards see her as she is, they would string her up then and there. You know as well as I do that would happen regardless of what we tell them."

Syrus knew what his friend said was true and yet he wanted to help this young distraught elf. With that in his mind, he took off his cloak from his shoulders and covering Alexis with the fabric before patting her on the back. The young mage then looked back toward his Templar friend. "Give me your wineskin. We can use some of the water to wash away the blood from her face and hands."

Tywin looked at Syrus with a grim and displeased face. Although he did not approve of what Syrus was doing, he did understand why he was doing it. After a short standoff between the two, Tywin gave in and handed his wineskin to the mage.

Jayden and Bastion were riding side by side along the road. The pair had traveled a great distance and were close to their destination. Jayden looked around at the scenery. The large forest that surrounded them and the fresh air that filled his lungs seemed to bring Jayden a great deal of joy.

Bastion simply looked at him while trying to hide his pleasure at seeing his friend finally enjoying himself. "It's good to see that you are not complaining anymore."

"Far from it," Jayden replied. "I find being away from my father's control somewhat liberating. Never have I felt such freedom before."

Bastion went on to focusing on controlling his mount. He looked onward and thought of what would become of himself and his friend.

Jayden looked towards him. "You ride that horse so well, almost as if you have done this before."

"Done what?"

"Horse riding. I've been riding for about two years now yet you seem to handle yourself very well. It's as if you are a master."

Bastion did not reply straight away. He looked down at the horse before turning back to Jayden. "I rode a horse along with the Brother Dytren when we came to Greenstone."

Jayden remembered the first day he met Bastion. He'd been only six years old and at the time, his friend was a student under the tutelage of a Chantry priest. In the days that followed, they'd gotten to know each other and soon enough they began to cause all sorts of trouble. Although he got many beatings from his father, Jayden enjoyed his childhood for he had a good friend to share in his trouble making.

"If it makes you feel better," Jayden said, "I could never imagine leaving you behind. If you'd said no, I most likely would have had to kidnap you".

Bastion looked at his friend with a droll expression. "What words you weave master playwright! I'm sure you could use your charm to entice many people to your side."

The village square was starting to quiet after the midday activity amongst the markets. There were still villagers going about their business though people seemed to be less active than they were half an hour before. On the corner of the market square sat a large wooden building. Hung over the doorway was a painted sign of a servant woman who seemed to be falling. Beneath this image were the words 'The Drunken Maid' in large black letters.

The door to the tavern burst open. Lovis walked through holding an iron tankard in one hand and his staff in the other. He took a sip from the iron-caste mug before saying, "I am just saying a nickname would be alright. I mean- you can call me whatever you'd like."

Chumley walked through the doorway after Lovis. This time his hood was lowered to his shoulders so his head and hair were exposed. The dwarf looked the mage and replied, "I am not going to call you _Salroka_ regardless of what you say."

"I've heard many dwarves call each other that and they sometimes call me that."

Chumley raised his hand and pointed directly at Lovis. "First of all, they are Surface Dwarves. I was not born on the surface and therefore I am not like them. Secondly, that term is used by the casteless. Since these dwarves live on the surface, they have no castes and that makes them automatically casteless."

Lovis displayed a witty smirk on his face. "As I recall the famous Dwarven saying, all dwarves who walk topside walk alone. So the moment you stepped foot on the surface, you automatically lost your caste and that makes you the same as surface dwarves."

Chumley lowered his hand and looked down at the ground in shame. "I forfeited my caste before I set foot on the surface."

Lovis became confused. "What?"

Chumley glanced away from the mage. He turned his gaze to the left which was in the direction of where the road into the village connected to the southern road. As he gazed at the road, his eyes were met with a sight he did not expect to see. Walking into the settlement was a young man in Templar armor and following behind him was a man who appeared to be a mage and an elven girl. Chumley turned back toward Lovis and said, "Hate to be the one to tell you this, but, looks like someone may be looking for you."

The dwarf pointed toward the entrance with his left hand. Lovis looked toward where he was pointing and felt a terrible shiver run up his spine. As fear began to take over, his grip on the tankard loosened. The mug dropped to the ground and the ale held within it spilled and mixed in the soil. As his heart began to beat faster, Lovis felt as if his collar began to tighten. He reached up to his neck and used his index and middle finger to stretch his out his neckband.

Lovis looked back at his dwarven friend. "What do you think we should do?"

"Well, I would say that it would mostly apply to you." Chumley stated. "Besides, I don't think he is looking for you."

Chumley pointed back toward the direction of the Templar. Lovis glanced over again while being careful not to be seen. Looking over a great distance, the young apostate saw something he found very strange. Following alongside the Templar was what appeared to be a mage and a young female elf wearing a cloak around her shoulders. Something about this mysterious trio seemed to spark his interest. Lovis felt his fear fade away before being replaced with curiosity. Lovis went on to gently bite his lower lip while thinking to himself.

After turning it around in his mind for a time, he looked back to Chumley. "That seems odd right?"

"A mage from the Circle and an elf traveling with a templar seems intriguing. Now meeting a middle aged man who has had both his hands cut off while still being called a swordsman is odd."

Jayden and Bastion slowly trotted into the village. Not many people seemed to be paying them any attention or interest. Jayden glanced around at the village. Cobbled streets filled with a small number of people dressed in ragged clothing were going about their business. It seemed completely different to what he expected when he read stories about the Black Fox yet he tried not to think about it too much. The young noble navigated his horse toward the village stables. When he was close, Jayden pulled on the reins and waited until the creature came to a complete stop before dismounting the animal.

He was approached by man who wore a grey cloth tunic that reached down to his knees. Around his waist was a long piece of thin rope which acted like a belt. His trousers were a starchy green and upon his feet were worn down boots. His hair seemed to be a greyish yellow that looked more like hay than anything else. Two days' worth of stubble covered his jaw.

"Look at ya riding into town," the man said. "Must have alotta coin on ya. What can a humble stable master do for a fella like ya?"

Jayden patted his horse before replying. "Looking for work and opportunity mostly. In the meantime, how much can I get for this horse?"

The stable master looked the beast over with great scrutiny. "Healthy, strong and well kept. Quite a horse ya have here. I'll give ya forty sovereigns for it."

Bastion approached the two men. "We have two so how much for them both?"

"I don't have the coin to buy two," the stable master replied. "But tell ya what- if ya go and talk to the village master, he'll give ya a good price for the two of them."

Jayden shrugged. "If you put it like that, which way to the Master's lodge?"

"Follow the main path to the village square and ya will find it facing to the east. It's really big, almost like a wooden castle."

Jayden reached into his pocket, took out a small silver coin before flicking it towards the stable master. When the man caught it, he added, "Don't spend it all at once."

As the two men walked away, neither of them looked back. Jayden was too busy taking in the atmosphere of the village while Bastion focused on leading his horse. Each foot step kicked up a small amount of dried dirt yet since the ground the village streets were built on were already filthy, no really appeared to care. In this new setting, Jayden began to wonder how people without titles lived and what they would think of him. People within the village didn't even seem to notice him though he was one of the few people there in finely made armour and had a thoroughbred horse at his command.

They made it into the village square. At the heart of this small country village were a few people talking and standing about. Some were bartering with merchants while others sat around the outside of buildings playing card games and gambling. In a strange way, Jayden felt comfortable with what he saw. Occasionally he would see some of the servants in the courtyard at night gathered around a small fire playing dice. Although he never really thought much about it, Jayden never felt the need to gamble. Being the son of a wealthy Teyrn, he could have whatever he wanted so he never felt the need to waste anything he was given.

"So- oh great leader, what should we do now?" Bastion asked.

"I'm just thinking," Jayden replied. "If we sell these to the village-master, how much do you think we could get?"

"Probably a great deal," a voice said, interrupting their banter.

Jayden turned in the direction in which he heard the voice. Standing a few feet away was a dwarf and a cloaked figure carrying a staff of some kind. As they approached, Jayden had a flashback to his days of education. He'd been taught on how to greet a dwarf if one were to ever arrive in Greenstone and now he was able to put his knowledge to good use. Jayden bowed his head and spoke to the dwarf, "Stone greet you."

The dwarf seemed impressed. "You greet me as if I were still in Orzammar. By your armor and knowledge, you must either be the son of a nobleman or a wealthy merchant. So which is it?"

Bastion looked towards Jayden and just before his friend could speak out, the young priest stated, "We are humble sell swords seeking opportunities to earn coin. Nothing more."

"Indeed," Jayden added. "After all, I was formally a member of…"

"Brent!" a voice cried out suddenly. "You are Jayden Brent!"

Everyone, including Jayden, turned in the direction of which the voice came. Walking towards them was a Templar of Rivain origin and following behind him at a brisk pace was a young mage in apprentice robes. As the Templar drew closer, he pointed at the young noble and continued. "I remember when I first saw you at the summer festival. I watched you during the Royal Tournament. You got to the final round where you drew with Arl Brandon's son. I must say, you have the fastest sword-hand I have ever seen."

Jayden was left speechless. He had no idea that on his first day outside of Greenstone he would be given high praise from someone he had never met before. A proud smile emerged on his face as the templar's words stroked his ego. Bastion, however, did not share his enthusiasm with the situation and he did not mind showing it.

With a stern gaze and upper lip shrill with bitterness, he turned towards his friend. "We have not been away from Greenstone for more than a day and already you've been recognized by a complete stranger. See? This is why you should wear a helmet."

Jayden paid no notice to Bastion's words. He always felt that no matter what he did, even if there was a small fault, his friend would go out of his way to prove that he should have done it better. Jayden went on to look at each member of the group. He could see the diversity of each person around him and felt as if he were at the beginning of a legendary story. Among these strangers, he began to imagine what stories they could tell and what he could learn from them. Among all of the people around him, Jayden noticed one who stood out from all the others. Standing between the Templar and young mage was a female elf. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of blue and her hair was a glimmering gold. Seeing her elven beauty made his heart flutter and his blood began to flow a little faster. Jayden had seen many ladies during his time in Greenstone yet he was either always in the company of a family member or he was in public so he hadn't been able to fully interact with them.

"Before we go any further, I think introductions are in order." Bastion commented. "I am Bastion, a lay brother of the Chantry and as you all know by now, my friend is Jayden Brent."

The dwarf looked around at the group. "Chumley. Formally of House Tranador from Orzammar but now I am simply known as Chumley."

"Lovis," the apostate spoke.

"Syrus, apprentice mage from the Circle of Magi." the young mage said moments before the templar added, "I am Tywin of Rivain, the junior member of the Templars in Pedgite."

The elf locked eyes with Jayden and spoke. "I am Alexis Windbow of the Dalish clan Yonwyn."

Tywin turned towards Syrus and whispered, "At least we know she is Dalish now."

Jayden took one look around at everyone before turning back towards Bastion. "Well I am not sure about you, but I feel as if we have encountered possible companions for our journey."

In that very moment, the sound of a woman screaming came from the village entrance. The entire group turned to see what was happening. At the main gates, a crowd of men and woman were running in. They wore armor and carried weapons which were of such a high standard that they could rival the Pedgite Royal Guard. As they rushed in, they attacked everyone and everything close to them. Men and women began to flee while village guardsmen drew their swords and charged into battle.

Fifteen to twenty men charged towards a crowd of forty or fifty warriors. Swords clashed and blood was spilled in the first few moments. As the fighting continued, any villager who had a weapon of any kind rallied to the aid of the guards. While the two small armies had a vicious standoff, the defenders were determined to protect their home though the enemy outnumbered them seven to one. As this battle raged before them, Jayden began to think to himself. Reading the books of legend were what inspired his dreams and had occupied his thoughts as a child.

"This is starting to look bad," Bastion stated. "I think it would be wise if we were to…"

Jayden quickly drew his sword and interrupted. "Go to the aid of the guards... a fantastic idea my friend!"

The idealistic adventurer raised his sword and charged toward the battle, his eyes like daggers and his fingers firmly holding onto his weapon. Seeing such an inspiring person only made others want to join the fight. Chumley pulled on the cord around his cloak and let it fall to the ground. As the grey cloth fell to the ground gracefully, it revealed his armor. The detail and texture was of such design that it had been forged by dwarven smiths and worn by nobility of Orzammar. Reaching for his belt, Chumley drew his weapons, a pair of iron war axes and held one in each hand before crying, "To Amgarrak!" The stout warrior followed behind Jayden with weapons drawn and his soul bursting with confidence.

Tywin rested his hand upon his longsword while he turned toward Syrus. "Keep Alexis safe and if we can't hold them off, take her back to the temple with you." Tywin drew his sword and charged into battle after the other two men.

Bastion rolled his eyes in disapproval before muttering, "I always have to rush to his rescue."

Pulling out two large daggers, Bastion followed his friend into the heat of battle. Standing off to the side, Alexis, Lovis and Syrus watched as their friends rushed into the fray.


End file.
